


Rocking Chair

by Kanin0



Category: MLAndersen0, Tribe Twelve
Genre: Also did i mention fLUFF, Fluff, M/M, rly old thing i wrote and never posted, very short oneshot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-23
Updated: 2017-04-23
Packaged: 2018-10-23 04:01:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 594
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10711773
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kanin0/pseuds/Kanin0
Summary: Noah tends to think too hard when he gets tired like this.(Short drabble I wrote last year eue)





	Rocking Chair

It was dark outside, around midnight.

 

Patrick was deep asleep, however the same could not be said for Noah. He laid on his back, staring at the ceiling with wide, sleepless eyes.

 

For a long time he was still, staring off absently, but after about an hour of doing just that, he got out of bed. 

 

He sat himself in a chair, close enough to Patricks sleeping body to watch, but far enough to not make too much noise. He knew Patrick would sometimes get protective of Noah, watching him sleep in the early morning, and Noah figured he might as well keep an eye on Patrick for the night, since he wasn’t going to sleep.

 

In watching his lover sleep, Noah began to think about exactly what was happening in his life. He had met Patrick, and Patrick had fallen for him quickly, taking Noah under his wing as a partner and a lover. For a while, Noah wondered exactly why Patrick chose someone like him.

 

Noah, the drunk who used to lay on his bed with bottles of vodka and fortune cookies at his side, rambling about his dead cousin. Noah, the crazy man who won’t go and get the journal already. Noah, the man who spits in the eye of authority.

 

Why would Patrick want something like that, Noah wondered. Wasn’t he a burden?

 

He then seemed to drift off into thoughts and memories. Patrick had taught Noah to fight. To dance. To play the piano. Those were happy memories, ones that sometimes clouded the fact that they were being hunted by a faceless demon and his followers.

 

While Patrick wasn’t really bothered too much by things like the Collective, he did seem to have it a lot worse with HABIT, which Noah found worrying. According to Patrick, Habit had killed someone close to him, but it was only mentioned once because it made Patrick too emotional.

 

Was this strange peace truly a sort of happiness, or was it just biding time? Was the Collective still plotting, or were they just watching angrily? Were they truly silent now? Was it over? 

 

Of course not.

 

Just as Noah felt like he was going to panic from thinking too hard, he felt eyes on him. Patrick was awake.

 

“Darling?” Patrick asked sleepily. Noah nodded silently, feeling too tired to even speak at the moment. For a while, Patrick just looked at Noah and his upright, tense posture and tired eyes. Finally, Patrick got up. He moved out of bed slowly, rubbing his sleepy eyes. Noah cocked an eyebrow, not knowing what exactly was happening.

 

Patrick moved himself over to Noah, and before Noah could fathom it, he was cradled in Patricks arms, being carried downstairs. Noah weakly struggled, to no avail.

 

Once Patrick reached the living room, he walked over to a small, antique looking rocking chair, and sat down with Noah still cradled. He set Noah down with him laying in Patricks lap comfortably before beginning to gently rock the chair back and forth. Noah watched his vision swing to and fro slowly, being warmed by Patricks body. He felt his eyelids slowly drooping, and he let them close. 

 

He let the  _ tick, tick, tick  _ of the clock soothe him into a relaxed and tired position, and after a few slow hair pets coming from Patrick, he drifted off into a somewhat peaceful sleep.

  
Patrick watched him for a while, his yellowish hazel eyes looking worried for the sleeping man below him, before eventually following Noah into slumber, the chair still rocking. 


End file.
